


every day i'm learning

by camellialice



Series: when tomorrow comes [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Domestic Violence, F/M, Grantaire & Éponine Thénardier Friendship, montparnasse is a first rate dickwad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camellialice/pseuds/camellialice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eponine has spent her life caring for other people, but never learned to take care of herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every day i'm learning

Eponine has spent her entire life caring for other people.

When Azelma got sick, she was the one who brought her medicine.  When Gavroche got into trouble, she was the one who went to pick him up.  When her two youngest brothers were taken away to be put in the foster care system, she was the one to tell Azelma and Gavroche where they’d gone.

She vaguely remembers a time when her parents were kind, pampered her, even, but those days are long gone.  Ever since the restaurant was closed down, her parents have stopped being parents.

At first they were mean, then awful, then cruel, and it got worse and worse until they were arrested.  Mum’s dead now, and Papa’s off roaming the streets with his gang, and Eponine doesn’t have to worry about them much anymore.  She’d say she misses them, but she doesn’t, she’s just relieved she no longer has to actively protect Azelma and Gavroche.

Eponine has spent her life caring for other people, but never learned to take care of herself.

 

Grantaire is the first person to point this out to her.  She laughs and says, “I take care of myself.”

He shrugs and doesn’t say anything else, which is how she knows he disagrees with her.

“Can you take care of Gavroche tonight?” She asks him.

His head snaps up, and he glares at her.  “Is this so you can have an adult sleepover with Montparnasse?”

“No,” she lies.

 

The next morning she feels like shit (she always does, afterwards).   She remembers the pained expression on Grantaire’s face when she lied to him about Montparnasse, and steels her resolve.  Today she starts taking care of herself.

He’s sipping coffee in the kitchen, leaning against the sink with her favorite mug in his hand.

“Morning, baby.”

“We need to stop doing this.”

He sets down the mug and looks at her with hurt eyes.  “No, baby, please don’t do this to me.  I need you.”

She lets him stay.

 

The first time he hits her, she turns on her heel and walks out the door.  This has always been her go-to response, ever since the first time her father hit her (she was twelve).  She is used to it and knows to get away, get away fast.  She says nothing, just turns and leaves.

She wanders about outside for a while and finally calls Grantaire.

“Hey, let’s hang out.”

“Aw man, I’m so sorry, I’ve got one of those meetings...”

She debates her options: going back upstairs or to a boring meeting.  It’s not a hard choice.

“Can I tag along?”

 

She calls Montparnasse after the meeting to break things off.  He apologizes profusely.

“Please don’t leave me, baby, I need you.”

“Montparnasse--”

“You can’t go.  I love you.”

She stays.

 

Combeferre wonders sometimes why he chose these people as his friends.

He’s standing alone in Courfeyrac’s kitchen, surrounded by empty bottles and the echo of Enjolras’s harsh words.  He knows why Enjolras is so upset, and wishes Enjolras did too.  To him, it’s obvious to nearly everyone that there’s something going on between him and Grantaire, he can’t believe the whole world hasn’t noticed yet.  The rest of Les Amis are beginning to, but slowly.

And then things happen like tonight, where Enjolras freaked out in the middle of Spin the Bottle (Combeferre knew that was a bad idea, from the moment Courfeyrac proposed it) and Grantaire’s heart audibly shatters.

Combeferre waited six and a half minutes before following Enjolras into the kitchen.  His friend was in a rage, ranting about everything except what’s actually got him upset, and Combeferre told him he was an idiot and sent him home.

Now he’s leaning against the sink, staring at the trash littering the island in the middle of the kitchen and wondering how people can be so oblivious.

 

Eponine goes into the kitchen in search of Enjolras (I won’t hurt him, she tells herself, I’ll just present him with a strongly worded argument as to why he’s a dick).  Her quarry is conspicuously absent, but Combeferre is there, leaning against the counter.  He looks exhausted.

“Hey, seen Enjolras?”

He looks up.  “Sorry, he just went home.  He’s not feeling well.”

“I see,” says Eponine, and thinks, Bullshit.

The corner of Combeferre’s mouth twitches into a half-smile.  “Were you looking to chastise him for his behavior tonight?”

“Something like that,” she admits.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.  We had quite a... talk, before he stormed out.”

“Did you tell him he’s a dick?”

“Yes, but not in those words.” Combeferre frowns.  “He isn’t a dick, not really.  He’s just oblivious.”

Eponine snorts.  “Impressively so.”

“I think he really cares about Grantaire a lot.  He’s not good at showing it, but I’ve known him since high school, and I can read him fairly well.”

Eponine slides onto a stool and leans her elbows on the island.  “That’s kind of nice to hear.  Grantaire’s infatuated with him.”

It’s Combeferre’s turn to laugh.  “Oh, I know.  I can see that too.”

“You’re quite observant, aren’t you?”  She teases.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he protests.  “I just like to watch people. And notice things.  But I wouldn’t say I’m very good at it.”

“Tell me something about me,” she begs.

He looks at her for a minute, and then says, “You’re a caretaker.”

She snorts.  “What gave it away?”

“You’re like a mother bear to Grantaire.  And I can’t say it doesn’t help that you’ve been monitoring everyone’s alcohol levels all night.”

She blushes.  “Yeah, well, I like you guys.  Can’t have you dying of alcohol poisoning.”

He smiles again.  His smiles are scarce, and she’s seen more tonight than in the month she’s known him.  She decides she likes them.  “Tell me something about you now.”

They chat in the kitchen until the party ends, and then she helps him clear up.  His company is quiet but reassuring, his voice is soft but nice, his smile rare but beautiful.

 

Montparnasse hits her for the ninth time, and she leaves, as always.

This time, he also threw a mug (her favorite mug, that bastard).

This time, he wasn’t even that drunk.

This time, he drew blood.

This time, she has somewhere to go, so she heads down to the Musain.  Musichetta is wiping down the counter, and grins broadly when she sees Eponine.

“Hey girl, how are you?”

Eponine doesn’t know what to say, so she gives Musichetta a thumbs up and a quick smile.  “Can I have a hot chocolate?”

Musichetta pauses.  “Not the usual?”

“Nah, it’s more of a cocoa day.”

She settles into a booth by a bookshelf and picks up the nearest book.  She glances at the cover and nearly drops it.  It’s Twilight.

“Not a fan?” Combeferre is standing over her with an amused expression.  “Here’s your hot chocolate.”

“It’s disgusting,” she replies, taking the cup from him.  “The book, not the beverage.  I’m sure Chetta’s hot chocolate is delicious...”

“Even though it’s not your usual?”

“I wasn’t feeling the coffee.”

“Understandable.” He sits across from her.  “What’s so disgusting about Twilight? I agree with you wholeheartedly, but I want to hear your thoughts.”

“It’s horrifically abusive.  He treats her terribly and she loves him blindly, she’s completely incapable of taking care of herself so she has to rely on the men around her to protect her.  The only thing she’s good at is taking care of other people, which is ridiculously sexist, and she’s totally useless otherwise, which is why--”  Eponine breaks off suddenly.

Combeferre eyes her carefully.  “It sounds like she needs to learn to take care of herself,” he says quietly.

 

Eponine makes it to Montparnasse’s apartment (read: hovel) in record time.  She doesn’t even bother to come in, just stands on the doorstep, folds her arms, and says, “It’s over.”

“No,” he moans.  “You can’t do this to me.  I need you.”

“I don’t care.”

“I love you.”

“That’s not enough.”

“I promise I’ll never hurt you again.”

“Bullshit.”

“Please, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

“No,” she says, and pulls herself upright, standing as tall as she can.  There’s a fire burning in her that she’s never really felt before.  It’s amazing.  “I’m going to take care of myself.”

She feels his eyes on her as she walks away, vaguely hears his protests, smiles to herself, and sips her hot chocolate.

 

“You did it,” Grantaire says when he sees her next.

“I did it,” she agrees, and his hug is warm and tight and comforting.

 

Combeferre is working in the library when she walks in.  He’s in there all the time, but she almost never is, and it’s disorienting.  And distracting.

Combeferre hates being distracted.

And that’s the problem with Eponine, really, she’s a constant distraction.  During meetings, during parties, even when he’s alone with his own thoughts she finds a way to the forefront of his mind.

He doesn’t have time for that today.

So he ignores the way her face lights up when she spies him and buries his nose closer in the book he’s reading.  It doesn’t work.

She’s standing next to him, and he can smell her vanilla shampoo, and he can hear his own heart beating and the way her skirt settles when she stops walking and God, this paper’s due on Friday, and she’s such a distraction.

“Hey,” she whispers, sliding next to him.

“Hi,” he mutters.

“Are you free? I was wondering if...”

“Can we do this another time?” He asks, and it comes out quicker than he meant.

She looks at him closely.  “Are you okay?”

And shit, now she’s touching his wrist and he’ll never get any work done at this rate so he pulls his arm away and snaps, “You don’t have to mother me, Eponine.”

He regrets it almost instantly.

She nods curtly, stands up, and leaves.

Christ, Combeferre thinks, I’m turning into Enjolras.

 

Combeferre sits next to her at that week's meeting, and offers to walk her home.  She accepts.

“How are you?” he asks.

“Really, really good, I think.”

He smiles.  She really, really, really likes his smile.  “I’m glad.  I’m sorry about earlier, I was stressed and I snapped...”

“It’s fine,” she reassures him.  “Really.”

They chat about little things: the meeting, Enjolras’s cluelessness, Grantaire’s hopelessness, the way Jehan kept giggling whenever he talked to Courfeyrac.  Eventually silence falls between them, but it’s a comfortable silence.  It’s nice.

Eponine looks up at the stars and thinks yes, things are really, really good indeed.

“Would you like to hang out sometime?”

She’s snapped out of her thoughts and sees that she’s home.

“Just you and me, I mean..” Combeferre continues, and he looks unsure, nervous, awkward, even a little scared.

“Like a date?” She teases, and watches him blush.

“I guess?  Kind of.  Unless you don’t...”

“I’d love to,” she says honestly, and his grin lights up the street.

 

“It’s because of Gavroche,” she tells him.  They’re sitting on a bench in the park, looking up at the clouds.

“What is?”

“The hot chocolate.”

“Oh?”

She takes a breath.  “When Dad used to hit me, Gavroche would bring me hot chocolate afterwards.  I think he thought it’d make me feel better.  It kind of did.”

He feels ice cold suddenly.  “Someone hit you.”

She nods.  “My sort-of boyfriend.  Not anymore, obviously.  I mean, I dumped him.”  She fidgets with her travel mug.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and her eyes flash.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I know.  But I’m sorry it happened to you.”

She sighs and takes his hand.  “I really like you, ‘Ferre.  But I’m kinda broken, and you deserve a whole person.  I don’t want you to pity me, or feel bad, or try to fix me.  I’m going to do that.  I need to be the one to do that.”

He nods, because that makes sense.

She looks at him, and for a second, her decisiveness wavers.  “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” he says, and squeezes her hand, ignoring the ache in his chest.  “I care about you a lot, Eponine.  And I know I’m not great at showing that or whatever but I really do, and if you ever change your mind, well, I’m here.”

“Thank you,” she says, and he knows that she means it.

 

**R:** eponine????

**R:** are you okay????

**R:** gavroche says you’re drunk and dancing to single ladies

**Eponine:** i’m fine

**R:** courf and i are on our way

**Eponine:** no whyy courf?

**R:** courf to babysit gavroche

**R:** me to babysit you

**R:** don’t break anything before we get there

****  
****

Eponine answers the door and says, “I’m not that drunk.”

Grantaire raises an eyebrow.  Gavroche barrels past his sister and into Courfeyrac’s arms.

“Where’s Azelma?” Grantaire asks.

“Friend’s house,” Eponine responds with a shrug.

“God, it’s like she’s never here...” Grantaire mutters as he shuts the door behind them.

They settle on the couch while Courfeyrac plays with Gavroche in the other room.

“I broke up with Combeferre,” Eponine announces abruptly.  Grantaire nearly falls over.

“You were dating???”

“No.”

He’s baffled.  “You’re gonna need to elaborate.”

“We went on one date and I told him I couldn’t do it.  That’s it.  That’s all.”

“Oh, ‘Ponine...”

“What?” She snaps.  “I can’t have a boyfriend.  We’ve proved that I’m entirely romantically inept.  I might as well give up now.”

“But Combeferre’s such a good guy!”

“But I’m broken, Grantaire.”

He looks at her, seriously, and she realizes he is sober.  It’s a bit of a surprise.

“Look, Ponine, I know all about being a fuckup, and you’re not one.  I’m a stupid, cynical drunk, who barely attends classes and pines over an unattainable Greek god.  You’re a kickass protector who looks out for everyone you love and just dumped Montparnasse, Asshat Extraordinaire, which took guts.  So shut up and really look at yourself, because honey, you’re not broken, you’re just bandaged.”

Eponine blinks.  “Thanks?”

“You’re fucking welcome.  Now go to bed, it’s late and I’m tired.”

“I love you,” Eponine says suddenly.

“I know,” he replies with a wink, and kisses her forehead.

 

Combeferre wishes he could tell Eponine how amazing she is, how incredible she is, how she totally and utterly rocks his world, but he can’t.  Combeferre is quiet and sensible and that’s all he is.  He’s the caretaker of les Amis, always has been, at least until Eponine came along.

When Eponine came along, she changed everything.

He’s lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, when he hears Jehan enter the apartment.  He closes his eyes as the ghost of Jehan and Enjolras’s conversation floats through the door and to his room.  Within moments, the hinges of his door are squeaking.

“Hullo, Jehan,” he says dully.  His friend climbs onto the bed beside him and curls up against his left side.

The thing about Jehan is that he doesn’t pester you for information.  He waits until you’re ready to share, and then he listens.  Combeferre, who has lived with Enjolras for the past three years, is grateful for friends like Jehan.

“It’s Eponine,” he admits finally.  “I really like her, but.  I don’t know.  I don’t think we click.”

“You do.”

“How do you know?”

Jehan nuzzles against Combeferre’s shoulder.  “I do.”

“She’s not ready for a relationship.  She needs to take care of herself.”

“So do you.”

Combeferre is thrown off.  “I do?”

“Of course,” Jehan says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.  He sits up and faces Combeferre.  “She’s a caretaker. But so are you.  You guys are like, I don’t know, the parents of our group.  You two keep us in line, clean up after our messes.  She focuses most of her energy on her siblings, you focus it on us.  You’re the same, deep down.”

“What do I do?”

“Stop moping in your bedroom, silly.  Talk to her.”

So Combeferre does.

 

He grabs her after the next meeting.  “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure?”

They sit on the window seat in the corner, facing each other.  It’s dark outside, but the city is glowing faintly, apartments and houses lit up in the distance.

“I was wondering if... I mean, obviously if you still feel the same way, we shouldn’t, but....” He stumbles over his words in the way that he never does except around her.  It makes her feel a little special.

He sighs and takes off his glasses, wipes them with his shirt and returns them to his face.  “I really like you, Eponine.  And I know you don’t want someone to take care of you and that’s okay because I don’t want to take care of you.  And I don’t want you to take care of me.  I get snappy and irritated sometimes and I’m not good at expressing feelings and I don’t want you to try to fix that, and I’m not going to try to fix you.  We each have enough people to take care of already, and I don’t want to be part of your burden.  I just want to be with you.”

The rest of the room has cleared out by now and his words hang in the silence left behind.

“I like you a lot too,” she whispers finally.  “But I’m not very good at relationships.”

“Neither am I,” he shrugs.

She laughs and he smiles and gosh, what a beautiful smile.  When she first met him he almost never smiled, but as she watches his expression soften in the glow of the reading lamp beside them, she thinks she could get used to this smile.

She kisses him, and behind them, the lights of the city twinkle beneath a billion stars. 

**Author's Note:**

> This one was a bitch to write but i have so many ponine/ferre feelings and i had to get them out.  
> I've been shocked and amazed by how many people are reading these, i love you all tremendously! And your kudos make me cry tears of joy. Keep being awesome!  
> As always, love and kisses to my beautiful beta [freddie](http://smarterwinchester.tumblr.com).  
> For requests/complaints/etc i can be found at [my tumblr](http://mydearoswin.tumblr.com).  
> Once again, infinite thanks to you all!  
> xxoo


End file.
